


But With You, I Feel Again

by nightwideopen



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon Compliant, Fluff, M/M, Magical Realism, No Smut, Pining, The X Factor Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 00:08:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2792648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightwideopen/pseuds/nightwideopen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>louis is anger and harry is fear and they love each other a lot but sometimes they hurt each other like little boys in love do</p><p>a self indulgent xf era fic</p>
            </blockquote>





	But With You, I Feel Again

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, here we go.
> 
> So, I found this prompt on yeahwrite Tumblr about two years ago, "write about someone who can only feel one emotion" and I lost it, then found it again (I feel like Ed Sheeran) and I thought to myself wow what emotions would the boys be?? and it spiraled into this mess.
> 
> THIS UNIVERSE is very near and dear to my heart and I don't want to spoil anything by explaining what it's all about. I didn't really work out the kinks and details of every nuance BUT what I can say is that everyone is born with one Emotion and at different times it's at different levels and when it's lower, it leaves them open to feel "normal" things like happy, sad, etc, but it's basically like they're not Feeling anything because Happy and Sad are Emotions on their own. It's super confusing, even to me, because this is not a novel and don't have to be that specific :) If you have any questions though you can ask me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/louisandpig) and I'll try my hardest to try to get you in my head.
> 
> This is a really long note and I don't expect anyone to read that whole paragraph so thanks to Skye (strong) for letting me whine thanks to any and every force of fate that led me to this prompt.
> 
> ENJOY THIS GOD AWFUL MESS I'M SORRY IN ADVANCE
> 
>  
> 
> **Updated as of April 25, 2017**

Louis thought it was a myth, being able to feel anything other than your designated Emotion. But there's nothing imaginary about the foreign sensation that erupts in his chest when Simon tells him and four other boys that they're through to the Judge’s Houses. He doesn't have time to question it before impulse takes over him and he's leaping into a pair of open arms. The boy catches him, spins him around, and doesn't put him down until they're well offstage.  

“I- sorry,” he says, once his feet touch the ground. “I don’t know why I did that.” He can feel his dormant Anger settling back in his chest. 

“It’s alright.” The boy’s voice is deep- surprisingly so- and he won’t meet Louis’ eyes. He shuffles his feet, clearly submitting to the radiation of Louis’ Anger. “Excitement of the moment."

"Hey,” he softens his voice with great difficulty, “You can look at me. What’s your name? Might as well get to know you now that we’re in a _band_ together and all.”

“Yeah,” the boy looks up, hands still buried deep in the pockets of his grey hoodie. “M- Harry, Harry Styles.”

It dawns on Louis immediately, and his eyes widen. “I know you. I saw your audition! You’re the boy I met in the bathroom!”

Harry starts cowering away, looking like it's taking everything in him not to cry. “It’s, uh- it’s Louis? Right?”

Louis nods, “Yeah! Look, you don’t have to be afraid. I'm not gonna do anything.” He ponders this situation for a moment. “You’re- you've got Fear, don't you?”

Harry doesn’t say anything this time, just averts his gaze and nods again. _Fear is rare…_

It’s heartbreaking to see the way he discretely crumbles because of the admission. Of course he’s self-conscious about it, the same way everyone is when they’re stuck with unfavorable Emotions that make normal human relationships near impossible.

“It’s alright.” The flame in his chest is dwindling as it’s replaced with something unfamiliar once more. “I’m honestly not going to hurt you,” he sticks his pinky out, “Promise.”

Harry’s soft green eyes hesitantly meet Louis’, and he interlocks their pinkies with a trembling hand.

Louis smiles at him, “C’mon, let’s go find the others.” He wraps a gentle arm around Harry’s shoulders, stomach fluttering when he doesn’t shy away.

He hopes he doesn’t mess this up.

☆。 .:*: ・ ’ 

None of them expected to make it this far; that much is clear on the first night at the bungalow belonging to Harry's stepfather. They’re all bundles of nerves and jitters, trying to sit still in their respective couch, floor, and beanbag seats. Even Liam, who's been through this before, is just as anxious, maybe even more so. The vibe Louis gets from each of them is confusing, and none of them look like they want to say anything.

“So,” Louis announces with a clap of his hands, “I’ll just break the ice here. My name is Louis Tomlinson. I’m eighteen and Doncaster born and bred. My Emotion is Anger.” He says it all with a smile, hoping he gives a good impression.

The other boys seem to be unsurprised by the announcement. They've all gotten past first name basis and picked up on each other's emotions at this point, but Louis argues to himself that it still feels right to properly introduce themselves.

"Niall Horan. Seventeen. Come here all the way from Mullingar, Ireland." He says it all with a straight face, until he breaks into a smile that must’ve been painful to restrain. “My Emotion is Happiness.”

There’s a grumble from the floor, “Lucky bugger. I’ve got this never-ending Worry.” Then he flushes red, “Uh, I'm Liam Payne, seventeen, and from Wolverhampton.”

It’s progress, but there’s still a quiet boy sat on the other end of the couch, and another one in a beanbag who’s sat in silent Fear.

“Zayn,” says the boy with the jet black hair cropped close to his skull. He looks exponentially different from when Louis had first seen him on that stage. It’s startling, is what it is; the boy is undeniably gorgeous. “Last name's Malik and I'm seventeen. I'm from Bradford, up North,” in which Louis inserts a _'Hey, Yorkshire lad!'_ and fist bump _,_ “and I’ve got Tranquility.”

Louis mulls it over for a moment, “So, you’re like, a natural stoner.”

It gets them all to laugh. All except Harry, who’s still curled up on the beanbag chair at Louis’ feet.

“How about you, mate?” Niall shouts entirely too cheerily at the the worried younger boy. Louis feels a simmer in his chest, but reminds himself that if he lets it take over, it’ll only hurt Harry more. He lets the balloon deflate before he speaks.

“Lads, take it easy. He’ll talk when he’s ready.” He drops his voice so only Harry can hear, “Alright?”

“Yeah, I-” Harry clears his throat, clearly trying to show some faux confidence. “I’m Harry Styles and I'm sixteen. I’m from here in Holmes Chapel, obviously, and, uh, my Emotion is Fear.”

The three other boys gape at him, maybe experiencing that same minute ache in their chests that Louis did when he first found out. Harry doesn’t see, though, because he’s staring with all the intent of a wild predator at Louis’ shoe, who’s rubbing what are hopefully comforting circles into the smaller boy’s shoulder with his thumb.

“Alright, now that we all know each other,” Louis thinks he feels some of the tension from Harry’s shoulders deflate, “Let’s have some fun, shall we? We’ve got a fridge full of food, a fully functioning X-Box, a football, a-”

“Hold on.” It’s Liam who interrupts him, and he doesn’t look too thrilled. “We’re meant to be preparing. How’re we supposed get through the next round when all we’re doing is mucking about?”

Louis thinks that he shouldn’t be fighting so hard to reign in his Anger, but he’s conscious of the Worry in the boy across from him and the Fear in the one below him so he keeps it in check.

“You mean, let’s work ourselves until we all hate each other? I don’t think so. This isn’t going to be any fun if we don’t become friends first. Do you really want this to be a _chore?_ ” Liam can probably feel his Anger slip up a notch. They all probably can.

“I mean, yeah, I want it to be fun. But I don’t want-”

“Listen to me. I know you don’t wanna go home and I know this is your second time around, we all do. But we can’t treat it as a _job_. Not yet. We’ve got to like each other before we can work together. Do you get what I’m saying?”

“Of course, but-”

“Great,” Louis smiles bitterly sharp and grabs the football from beside Harry’s feet and tosses it to a gaping Liam. “Let’s have a kick about then so I can show you all my top notch skills.”

Liam looks like he wants to argue, maybe wants to lash out at this older boy who's just thoroughly shot down all of his expectations and plans for this week. But he leaves it alone, hands the ball to Niall as the blonde goes bounding by and follows him out with a deflated look. 

“You coming?” Louis turns to acknowledge Harry once again.

“Hm?” Harry is startled out of his thoughts, green eyes flickering from Louis’s face to the floor and back again. “I- I'm not very good at football. I’ve got two left feet and a magnetic face.”

“Ah,” Louis muses with a slow, understanding nod. He sits back down on the couch, the fire inside him feeling just shy of extinguished. It’s unnerving; he’s never been so.. not Angry. “A self-proclaimed ball magnet. As much as I love a good innuendo, I think I can help you out."

Harry doesn’t move, doesn’t look up, just mumbles, “I don’t want to get hurt.”

Louis nearly chomps his own finger off. “Well of course you don’t. I can’t imagine anyone does. C’mon,” he reaches a hand out, “I’ll protect you.”

There’s a smile that slowly creeps across Harry’s rosy lips and it’s like watching the last of snow melt on the first day of spring. It’s refreshing and unexpected, relieving nonetheless.

Harry’s voice drops to almost a whisper as he blushes and takes Louis’s hand. “You make me feel less Afraid.”

There’s an explosion inside of Louis that catches him off guard. He doesn’t know what it is, and it feels like ice compared to the way he usually Feels. 

It doesn’t show on his face, hopefully, the unfamiliar burst inside him. He tries to keep nonchalance, and it works for the most part.

“Good thing, too, Curly. Can’t have my new best mate being scared of me, yeah?”

Harry actually laughs, “Yeah.”

They toss their arms over each other’s shoulders and join the lads in the field out back.

☆。 .:*: ・ ’

Turns out the boys are all 100% compatible. It’s effortless how they find common interests and tell each other stories and tidbits. It’s mad, how fast they all trust each other. There’s a few arguments of the petty kind, but it’s smooth sailing from day one.

Except with Louis and Liam.

It’s 6 days into their mini-vacation and they’ve still not got a song, haven’t done a lick of rehearsal, and really only done one successful harmony around the fire. Louis doesn’t mind, but it’s driving Liam up the wall.

It’s the morning of the sixth day when it gets a bit out of hand. 

“Where’d all the ice cream go, holy shit Niall!”

There’s an audible groan from the couch where the boys are all sat watching a film. “If we spent some more time singing, he wouldn’t have the time to eat it all!”

Louis pauses in his search, the Anger in his chest flaring up before he can stop it, and he slams the ice box shut. 

“What is your fucking obsession with being such a killjoy? We’re in this together, and it’s not gonna work if-” 

“I _know!_ You’ve said it all week! But as you can see,” he gestures wildly to where Harry is combing through Zayn’s hair, who’s sat on the floor in front of the couch with Niall’s head in his lap, “We’re all pretty comfortable with each other. So I’d very much appreciate it if we did some actual work already.”

“You’re so fucking uptight about it. Can you just calm the fuck down, and actually enjoy this time before we really do have to work our arses off?”

He can practically feel the vibrations of Liam’ Apprehension from across the room. It’s starting to Trigger him, and he notices out of the corner of his eye Harry starting to tremble. He’s got his eyes fixed on the telly, but he can feel it, too, no doubt.

“Who made you the leader of all this? We’re all equals and you’ve just taken over like you’re better than all of us!” 

It’s a stupid thing to say, Louis thinks. "But you all listen to me, don’t you?”

“You’re a real dick, you know that?”

Louis almost laughs, and maybe he would’ve, had his chest not been feeling like it was burning from the inside out. “I’m well-aware. Now, who’s going to come with me to buy more ice cream?”

Niall eventually raises his hand.

“Do any of you even want this? Anyone?”

Zayn looks like he wants to say something, torn between getting involved and passively letting it play out. His Emotion defines him in that moment, and he keeps quiet. 

“That’s a really selfish thing to ask. You’re not the only one here with aspirations.”

Liam pinches the bridge of his nose. “Well I’m the only one who seems to be showing it.”

Louis feels the balloon in his chest expand and he storms toward Liam, barely seeing Zayn’s arms wrapping around Harry.

“Because you let your _fucking_ Emotion define you!"

He says it really loudly, the irony accentuating the tension in the room. The air is thick with the vibrations of what they’re Feeling, the three of them shaking with it. Even Niall’s omnipresent smile has faded, not even his Emotion is strong enough to protect him from feeling the effects of Louis’ Rage.

“Hypocrite,” Liam spits before storming out of the house and out of sight.

Louis wants to cry then, he really does, the boiling feeling in his chest spreading all over. Niall chases after Liam, and Louis moves to approach Harry, who’s crying in Zayn’s arms. He can feel the Fear in waves and as he gets closer, it gets stronger, tingling in the tips of his fingers and toes. He realizes then that it’s getting stronger for Harry as well. So he stops, and takes a step back.

“Harry?” His voice breaks on it, and both boys on the couch turn to look at him. Harry’s just shaking, eyes red, and he’s trying to squirm out of Zayn’s lap; away from Louis.

Zayn’s face is stuck on a hard look, the exact opposite of his Tranquil default. His vibe is faint, the entire room drowning in the Anger and Fear that keep triggering each other. 

“I think you should go,” Zayn mumbles. “Go take a breather because it’s hurting him more than it’s hurting you.”

Louis’ heart might’ve shattered at that, the absolute truth of it. He digs his nails into his palms, racing out of the room with a new ache in his chest. 

His mind is foggy when he gets back to his room. In a daze, he pulls out his iPod and starts flicking through it, writing down songs he thinks Simon would like.

☆。 .:*: ・ ’

It takes three days of debating songs before things return to normal, or as normal as they can get with the lingering tension between Louis and Liam.

“So, what do we think of the song boys?” They’ve settled on _Torn_ , the best choice for Liam and Harry’s leading vocals. It’s a good song, and their best bet, but no one seems to want to agree. 

It’s Harry that speaks up. “I like it.” He shoots Louis a soft look and a small smile. “Just wish me and Li weren't the only ones with leads, I mean. We’re all in this.”

“We don’t mind,” Zayn assures him, “You’re best for it. You’re going to get us through, and we can all work from there, yeah?”

And well, he’s right. “Exactly! With you, baby Hazza, we will have weeks and weeks to work up to your current standards.” Louis winks. It’s quick and barely there, but it makes Harry’s cheeks flush. _Point for Louis, then._

He picks at his scarf. “I’m not that good, guys. ‘Specially not as good as Liam.”

“We’ve all got different strengths, Harry,” Liam steps in, despite the scowl that appears every time he so much as looks Louis’ way, “We’ve got to play to them. You’ll nail the chorus. Let’s get to work, then, yeah?”

☆。 .:*: ・ ’

They’re nearly at the of end their week-and-thirteen-days, a healthy balance of work and play established that finally assuages the tension in the house. It’s a miracle, is what it is, and they’re all left with nothing but their respective Emotions and slight nerves due to their quickly impending performance.

“Hazza?” Louis calls from the couch playing Fifa against a sleeping Zayn, as usual. “Can you c’mere a minute?”

It’s late at night, the time of the day when all of their Emotions are at their lowest points from exhaustion. Louis hasn’t had a proper conversation with Harry since their first day, and he doesn’t think that’s very best mate worthy of him.

“What’s it?” Harry stumbles into the living space, rubbing at his sleepy eyes. He was asleep, then; had the decency to pull on boxers at least, a feat in and of itself, Louis has come to learn.

Louis pauses the game and sets the controller down, thinking that there shouldn’t be butterflies in his stomach as he pats the space beside him on the couch. He feels lighter, even for midnight.

“Didn’t mean to wake you. Just wanted to talk. How’re you holding up?” He’s got one foot planted on the ground, and it starts to bounce on its own volition in correspondence with his internal jitters.

Harry nods, seemingly unaffected by their close proximity and shifting so their knees touch. “S’alright. I’m good, yeah, having fun. Weird having so many lads around, if I’m honest.”

“What d’you mean? Never had your mates come ‘round once in a while to drive your mum near out of her mind?”

Harry seems to shrivel up at that, and shrugs. “Never really had many mates in school. Spent a lot of time with my older sister growing up."

“S’plains why you’re so lovely to everyone. Bet your sister doesn’t take any shit. God, I’m such a softie when it comes to my sisters, would probably let them get away with murder.” He’s aware that he’s saying things, but all he hears is the rush of the blood in his ears because of the heat of where they’re legs are brushing together and- oh fuck.

Harry puts a hand- a large hand for a 16 year old, shit- on Louis’ bouncing knee. Louis tenses everywhere, effectively stopping his restlessness.

“You’re a big softie with everyone. Like a toasted marshmallow. You’re all mushy on the inside.” And- Louis doesn’t even remember what he’d said.

“I guess I am.”

Harry’s laugh startles Louis out of his autopilot daze, and they make eye contact for one awkward moment. Louis doesn’t know what’s happening; all he knows is that he can’t feel his leg.

“You alright?” Harry’s got such a pretty smile. “Y’look a little pale.” His face turns to genuine concern when Louis takes a beat to long to respond.

“What? Yeah, m’fine. Sorry.” He pulls his knees to his chest, trying to maintain some personal space, something he would _never_ imagine doing before now. “Just spaced out a second.

“As usual.” 

Louis does a double take. “How would you know? We never hang out!”

“‘Cos you never want one-to-one time with anyone! You always need a huge group of people around to impress.”

There’s subconscious spark inside of Louis, the night ticking into morning and his defensive nature getting the better of him. Harry can feel it most likely, with how close he is, and Louis is acutely aware of Zayn stirring in his sleep. He’ll cause of ruckus if he lets himself slip; he really doesn’t think he has it in him to fight it at the moment.

“Can we go outside?” His voice is tight, nearly a whisper. “Sit on the trampoline or somethin’?”

Harry moves immediately, uncharacteristically confident in his movements. “Of course, yeah,” he reaches out a hand for Louis to take, “I can feel it radiating off of you, come on.”

So, Louis takes his hand, most likely hallucinating the near electric shock that passes through him at the first bit of contact. He’s most definitely losing it.

Louis tries to keep his distance as they situate themselves on the trampoline, but he just ends up with a curly-haired 16 year old snuggled into his side, wondering when the fuck this boy got so affectionate. He doesn’t mind it, honestly, it’s just a bit unexpected.

“You’re an overgrown feline, you know that?”

Harry fakes a purr and nuzzles his nose into Louis’ jaw. He’s going to be the death of him, Louis is is sure of it.

“I’ve never been so not-Afraid before. Even in the late hours. The most scared I’ve been in the last week and half is the day you and Liam fought. The four of you just… make it go away, somehow. Especially you, it’s- it’s so strange.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” And he does. He understands the lack of feeling he gets when the two of them so much as look at each other, brush knuckles in passing. It’s addicting, the way everything feels easier. It’s like they cancel each other out, help each other in the most important way.

“Do you? I mean, it’s like… I feel like I’m making it up. You’re not supposed to Feel anything else, right? Like, it’s impossible, innit?”

Louis’ heart skips a beat, and the innocence in Harry’s eyes is a fucking precious _flower_. “Can I tell you something?”

Harry looks confused. “Yeah, anything, of course. Best mates.”

“I-” He almost doesn’t feel ready to tell him, like it would give him away. Maybe it will, and maybe it’ll scare Harry off. The way he Felt that day he leapt into Harry’s arms, it’s scary. And maybe Harry doesn’t mean that level of Feeling. Louis’s been staring slack-jawed for a moment too long, and Harry’s eyebrows start to draw together in confusion.

His brain stutters, and he figures that it he thinks he’s in love with his new band-and-best mate, now’s a good a time as any to- “I’m gay.” And… that’s not what he meant to say at all.

Harry’s eyes widen minutely, but only for a moment. “But- Hannah?”

Oh, _right_ , he’s got a girlfriend.

“I- it’s, uh, a recent realization. Very recent.” _Like, two seconds ago recent._ “I wanted you to be the first to know.” _Before me, even._

The boy next to him looks a mix of flattered and confused. “W-why me?”

What Louis does next deems him eligible for a complete psychoanalysis. To be fair, he's _right there_ , staring at Louis in wonder, lips parted, and it’s- it’s only natural that he kisses him.

Harry’s lips are like pillows, and catch his own easily, even with the unexpected lunge. Louis swears that everything in and around him stops for a moment, that there’s not a drop of Anger left in his body. He’s strangely empty and full all at once, and it’s a slap in the face when he pulls back, the unfamiliar Feeling swapping out with his regular one.

His cheeks are burning, he can feel it, along with his sweaty palms and wide eyes. He’s royally fucked everything up, can tell by the look on Harry’s face.

He should’ve just told him the truth.

“I-I’m sorry. I don’t, I- fuck. I’m so sorry, I-” He scrambles awkwardly off of the trampoline, landing ungracefully in the slippery grass. He runs back inside in a blur, tears burning hot in his eyes.

Louis can feel the fire in his chest again, in it’s rightful place, swelling up with a vengeance in the spot right beside his heart. He’s never been so Angry with himself, for fucking up so badly. He can’t fix this, can’t take it back.

In a rush, he tries to storm past whoever’s on the couch and promptly trips over someone’s foot. A wave of fresh Anger rolls through him, and the responding vibration of Worry that Liam lets off does nothing but fuel it further.

He bursts into tears, is what he does, trying to shove Liam off of him, who’s decided to try to get him to sit down.

“Get the fuck off of me!” he shouts. He’s hyper-aware of it echoing in the small house.

“Li, let him go. Stop it, you’re making it worse.” And it’s lucky that Zayn’s Emotion heightens rather than gets overriden like Niall’s. “Let him _go._ ”

Then there’s no more hands on Louis and he’s stumbling past the lot of them so he can be alone. He gets all of 30 seconds to catch his breath before Zayn’s radiation of Calmness is seeping into him and there’s a knock on the door.

“Go away.”

He doesn’t mean to say it, not really, but the fire in his chest is talking for him now, and he hates it, so it just makes him Angrier.

Zayn comes in anyway. He sits himself on the corner of the bed that Louis has come to call his own and lets a moment of silence ring between them. Their juxtaposing Emotions fight to cancel each other out, but it just ends up adding to the already brightly burning inferno inside Louis.

“Do you wanna tell me what happened? Just talk to me and I’ll give you space to cool off if you need it, yeah?”

Louis scoffs, unable to stop it. “I don’t want to _talk_ , and I don’t want you here.” The weakness of his voice counteracts maybe the intent of the malice in his words.

Zayn keeps his distance, but doesn’t leave. “I know that’s not you talking, Lou. You don’t want to be alone, you never do. You hate it almost as much as you hate Feeling like this.”

It’s a Herculean effort on Louis’ part that keeps him from screaming at Zayn to leave. Of _course_ he hates this, of course he doesn’t want to be alone. With that, there’s no doubt in his mind that this is the strongest he’s ever fought himself, that his heart's instinct to push everyone away stronger than it’s ever been.

So he thinks about the things that make him not-Angry; his sisters, his mum, home in the summer playing footie, singing, being on stage. He focuses on the responding waves of Zayn’s Tranquility, takes a deep breath and counts to ten. He never thought that all that shit he learned in Emotion Management would come in handy, but here he is. Here he is trying to remember every tip that the flower smelling lady had given him nearly ten years ago.

“You can’t tell Harry,” he whispers into his pillow. He’s found himself buried underneath his blanket, and Zayn moves closer, his vibe getting stronger and leaving Louis with a manageable warmth in his chest.

“Bu- okay. Yeah, anything.”

And Louis thinks that’s a defining moment for the start of their friendship, that he's choosing to keep a secret from Harry to gain Louis’ trust; he’s so grateful for it.

“I love him, I think.” Zayn doesn’t say anything, but his lack of reaction is enough to tell Louis that he can trust him. “I just wanted to talk to him and he started saying that I made his Fear go away and- Do you remember when Simon put us all together? That moment? What did you feel?”

He takes a second to think, and it puts Louis on edge, that Zayn can’t remember it as clearly as he does. “I- I Felt sort of like, something different? Like I still felt, like, Calm, but it was sort of more? An extension of it, maybe? You don’t think-”

“I Felt something completely different. And Harry he was just, there. I jumped right into his arms and I Felt... something else. It was a different Emotion. Not like, diminished Anger, it was an Emotion. But it wasn’t mine.”

“That’s- Lou.” He wasn’t expecting this at all, it seems. “Is that even possible?”

“It happened, didn’t it? I’m not lying, I swear.” He makes an ‘X’ over his heart. “It was so surreal and it was _him_ , too I know it, he just- And tonight I kissed him and I fucked it all up. He doesn’t know the truth and he probably doesn’t even _like_ me, I-” There’s a bigger spark of heat in in chest before Zayn puts a hand on his shoulder to snuff it out.

Zayn doesn’t say anything, doesn’t have to, and Louis falls asleep like that, with a bright glow in his chest.

It’s suffocating.

☆。 .:*: ・ ’

Things move quickly after that; they get through Judge’s Houses just like they said they would, and they’re well into their third week of rehearsals for the live shows before Louis gets a chance to take a step back to put things in perspective.

He never would have imagined this happening in a million years. He’s been too busy to realize it, but this is his chance, he’s been given a _chance_ to show what he and his four new best friends can _do._ He gets a moment to breathe, call his mum, take it all in. The last few months have been a bit of a blur, and he just has to keep reminding himself to stop thinking about what might happen, because what’s already _happened_ is a one in a million chance in itself.

Then there’s Harry, who he's been avoiding like the plague. He hasn’t had to try very hard, what with the constant rehearsing, all he’s really done is make sure he eats before Harry wakes up from one of his many naps and pretend to be asleep when Harry starts asking around for him.

Three weeks is evidently long enough for Harry to pick up on Louis’ tricks, and when Louis walks into their room to go to bed, Harry’s already waiting on his own bunk, just below Louis’. There’s no avoiding it. Louis can feel Harry’s Fear from the doorway, and his own heart starts to race in response. He stops mid-step, not wanting to fuel either of their Emotions any further.

“Harry." 

Harry’s just sitting on the edge of his bed, hands trembling slightly where they’re folded in his lap.

“Do you hate me, Lou?”

Louis’ brain short circuits, because in the time that he’s trying to figure shit out himself, he’s left Harry confused. Harry’s confused as to why his best friend kissed him and ran away after telling him he’s gay.

“Hazza.” He takes one step forward, but stops, bouncing back as if their colliding Emotions have made a forcefield. “Harry, no. If anything you should hate me, I. That was _wrong_ , Harry. Shouldn’t have done that to you without even like, asking. How you felt about it. Don’t know how you didn’t just deck me when I...”

He trails off, retraces his steps towards Harry, fighting through the boiling Anger in chest in hopes that Harry will tell him to leave. Harry just starts shaking harder, but doesn’t move.

“Why’ve you been ignoring me?” The tears in his voice are clear as day, and it’s all Louis can do to close the distance and sit on the bed beside Harry, willing the blaze inside him to _stop_. 

"I-" he moves to reach for Harry, stupidly, and Harry succumbs to his Fear as a result. He flinches, scrambling back and bursting into tears. "Harry, I have to go it’s _hurting_ you, I can’t, I-"

He jumps off the bed and races out of the room, thanking every force that made his hasty exit justifiable. He doesn’t know what to do, the lingering Anger clouding his judgement. The only thing he can thing to do is find Niall, tell him to go take care of Harry as he himself looks for Zayn.

“Z?” He finds Zayn nooked in a secluded corner of the house, reading a _book_. He’s horrified. 

“Lou?” He can probably sense the dwindling fire in Louis’ chest, even from the distance. “You alright? Did something happen?” He scoots over to make room for Louis.

Louis never lets anyone see him cry, never lets anyone see past his wall. He uses his Anger as a natural defense mechanism, and it seems like lately that’s been breaking down.

He sits down next to Zayn in the tight space, brings his knees to his chest and tries to sort his thoughts. “I keep hurting him, Z. I can't help it and I can't fucking stand it. He doesn't deserve it."

Zayn sighs, and Louis knows it means he's about to give him some life-altering advice.

"Louis," he doesn't even bother closing his book, "You haven't even spoken to him. You've just been dodging him left and right. He doesn't know what he's done."

"He hasn't done anything," Louis interjects immediately.

Zayn shrugs, like that's the answer. "He doesn't know that."

Oh, _fuck_. "Fuck. I fucked up." 

He pinches Zayn's thigh.

"What was that for?"

"Not telling me that I fucked up."

Zayn eyes him suspiciously. "Alright, from here on out I promise to tell you when your head's up your arse."

Louis kisses Zayn's cheek obnoxiously, snuggles into his side. He's feeding off of Zayn's Tranquility, always finds himself needing it when his Anger's too strong to reign in. It's a pleasant balance, and Zayn once told him that it keeps him from getting too lost in the clouds sometimes. They work, the two of them.

"That's all I ask."

☆。 .:*: ・ ’

Louis doesn't take Zayn's cryptic advice right away. He spends a majority of the following week thinking of a proper way to explain what happened without saying he's bloody in love with the boy. He doesn't want to freak Harry out, to make him uncomfortable being the object of Louis' newfound gay affection. He, reasonably, doesn’t want to lose the essence of being able to call someone his best mate. He's been shit at holding his own self-proclaimed title at best, his Anger flaring up every time he thinks about how much he's probably hurt Harry in the space of a few weeks of knowing him.

He waits until after they've just filmed their fourth video diary, when Harry is all smiley and Unafraid, Louis himself pleasantly lacking Emotion. He's leeching off of Zayn and Niall's respective Emotions for an extra boost of confidence. 

Harry jolts when Louis puts a hand on his shoulder, which isn’t a very good sign. A pulse of Fear vibrates through the air around them, bursting Louis' nearly Emotionless bubble, and his Anger reacts accordingly. The jolt is enough to spark the flame, but once Harry turns around and Louis sees the look on his face, the heat licks up his lungs and catches, leaving it up to him to control it. He tries his hardest not to let it project, and gives his greeting as if nothing is happening in the space between them.

''D'you have a minute to talk? It's about... y'know. What happened that night. I didn't, I  wanna-"

"Yeah," Harry exhales. "Let's go somewhere quiet?"

Louis nods, already leading them down a secluded hallway to get away from the noise and bustle of the rest of the house. Zayn had set up a beanbag chair and a lamp in the little niche he's carved out for himself since the last time Louis was here. Louis plops down in it like it's his.

"What is-"

"Zayn," Louis chirps, like that's the only explanation the situation needs. And it is, to be honest, because Harry just nods to himself where he's fixed himself, a few feet away from Louis. “You think you’re alright to sit with me? M’trying to reign it in best I can, but you’ve gotta help me out, yeah?”

Harry takes a step forward and winces. Louis can feel the stab of the burst. Harry shakes his head.

“I don’t know how- I. No one’s ever taught me.”

Louis is taken aback for a moment, because with an Emotion like Fear, it’s got to be painful, borderline crippling, going through school and _life_ without at least an inkling of how to deflect other Emotions and quell your own even a little bit.

“Harry.” He doubles his efforts to pull in the building Anger in his chest at the discovery. “H, that’s _dangerous_. With strong Emotions like ours, you need _practice_. You need to know how to protect yourself. Even if you don’t have power to make a forcefield you can’t just- you can’t have everything coming at you full force all the time. You can’t not know how to protect others from yours as well.”

Harry chuckles sadly. “You don’t think I know that?” He’s staring at his shoes, hands in his pockets. “Mum couldn’t afford it, Lou. I never got the top notch Emotional education you did. Not everyone does.”

There’s a flash of red behind Louis’ eyelids, and it feels like a truck’s sat on his lungs as he fights to hold back the worst of the impact from Harry.

“You don’t know a fucking thing about my family, Harry, the things we had to sacrif-” He digs his nails into his palms and steels himself. This is the exact opposite of what he’s trying to accomplish. “We’re not here to fight. Can we just- can I explain what happened? Then you can decide whether you hate me or not and we can move on?”

Harry’s shoulders lose a significant amount of tension at the retraction of Anger, the air between them filtering itself. He nods. “Sorry.”

“It’s _fine_ , just- c’mere. Sit, we can’t stand ten feet apart the whole bloody time we’re on this thing. Gotta face it sometime.”

He scoots over, and it takes Harry a moment before hesitantly stepping forward. He doesn’t seem to meet any resistance, and finds himself next to Louis, breathing picking up only slightly at the lack of distance. Louis notices.

“Look, I- that night. My only intentions were to talk to you. I missed my best friend back home, and I just needed someone to _really_ be myself around.” He picks at a loose thread on his trousers. “I’m a bit of a showoff y’see…”

Harry laughs, “You don’t say.”

“Shut up, you’re ruining my monologue.” He lets himself smile though, all of the tension between them draining to next-to-nothing. “Anyway, when I told you that I, you know, it was like a shock to me, even. It’s not what I’d meant to say at all and I sort of figured I’d, I dunno, test out the theory? I- fuck, I wasn’t bloody _thinking_ Harry. I don’t even think that was _me_. I never really thought about it much less talked about it and- none of this makes any fucking sense.” _Because you’re lying._ “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Harry gives him a reassuring smile. “But I get what you’re saying. You- you don’t really have to apologize. I just- just wanted to know why you’ve been avoiding me like you owe me money or somethin’.” He pauses. “Do you?”

Louis shoves him playfully. “I’m trying to be _serious_ here, did you know?”

“Must’ve taken a lot out of you, I’m sure."

“Yeah, worked up a proper appetite suppressing all my sarcasm. We should go eat, yeah?”

Harry nods, but doesn’t respond or make any move to get up. He’s just looking at Louis with these soft eyes and a fond smile playing on his Cupid’s bow lips. It’s easily the most intimate moment Louis has ever shared with someone.

“So we’re good?” Louis’ heart is in his throat.

“We’re good. Best mates, right?”

Louis’ stomach may or may not do a flip, he’ll have to review the occurrence later. “Best mates.”

They’re good, and that’s all that matters. 

☆。 .:*: ・ ’

They’re six weeks in and Louis’s riding off the high of still even being in the game at this point. He and Liam have settled their differences and are finally able to be in each other’s presence voluntarily for more than an hour. Louis finds that his outlet is harassing Liam, and that Liam’s is being harassed by Louis. It’s a fair trade.

Harry and Louis get closer and closer with each passing day. They spend every second together, on and off stage, and Louis would be basking in it if he wasn’t so fucking frustrated with himself for not telling Harry the truth; the real truth. It’s annoying, is what it is, that Harry keeps being a touchy-feely best mate to play up ‘Larry Stylinson’ for the fans and everyone else in the house. And every time Zayn is within earshot of  someone saying _the two of you look so cute together_ , he gives Louis this _look_. Louis is fairly sure his face is going to get stuck like that. Unless, of course, Louis fesses the fuck up and gets it off of his chest. The worst thing that can happen is that Harry doesn’t feel the same, which he’s already dealing with. Louis has nothing to lose, really.

But see, Harry doesn’t give the glaringly ‘obvious’ signs of being gay like Louis apparently does. Maybe it’s stereotypical and presumptuous of him and everybody else, but he figures Harry would've _told_ him. They’re more than close enough by now, he thinks.

Then there comes the point where the two of them start sharing a bunk. More often than not, Harry finds a secret to whisper in Louis’ ear in the middle of the bloody night, and then falls asleep before Louis even gets a chance to respond. Louis finds himself waking up to Harry’s snoring face more times than he’d ever imagined, but he can’t find himself complaining.

And even with all the midnight secrets and stories, Louis still feels like he doesn’t know Harry at all, because Harry doesn’t know him. All he gets to do is whisper the things he knows and loves, the things that diminish his Anger, the things misses most about home. He feels so… _uneven_ , and he doesn’t know how to find a happy medium.

It's another one of those nights when Louis makes the executive decision to act faster than Harry can. He's been awake all night, slowly feeling the Anger drain from him bit by bit as he gets more drowsy.

"Hey Lou, I just-"

"No," he rolls over to face a stunned Harry; he usually pretends to be asleep, ''It's my turn, you big lump. So stay awake and let _me_ talk."

There's the smallest flicker of Fear in the air, but it's immediately doused by the time of night, the lack of energy behind the Emotion.

"I- why?"

Harry seems to be scooting away from Louis, taking the blanket with him. Louis pulls it back, leaving a naked Harry cold on the far end of the bed.

“Because you can’t just crawl into my bunk every night, tell me your bloody life story and then fall asleep and learn fuck-all about me.” Louis kind of wants to Feel the Anger behind his words for a moment, wants Harry to know just how frustrated he is.

“Um.” Harry tries to crawl back under the covers.

“You can join me in the warmth after you learn something about me.”

Harry opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He looks so _young_ like this; his short curly hair all fluffed up from his earlier shower, his eyes wide and innocent. He’s got his whole fucking life ahead of him and Louis is in _love_ with him.

He doesn't deserve to be.

A small mutter snaps him out of his thoughts. 

“Sorry?”

He can see that Harry’s blushing even in the darkness. "I asked, um, if you've ever like. Done stuff. With a boy." He won't look at Louis, and Louis would tease him for the question had he not found himself blushing at it.

"l- no. I haven't." The air remains relatively still. ''Have you?"

Harry nods, and Louis finds himself frozen with his newfound information until he snaps back to senses and tosses the blanket onto a fidgety Harry.

"Do you ever think about it?" And Louis can't really say that he has.

The distance between them suddenly isn't enough, and Louis feels exposed. The tension in the air is different, painfully so, and he doesn't know where this new fire is coming from. It isn't hot, like the Anger that lies dormant beside his heart; it's not cold, like the ice that took him over the day he leapt into Harry's arms. It's like melting butter spreading through his whole body and he's _confused._

"Not until now," he answers, truthfully enough.

Louis' almost nervous for the next question, wondering if this is what Harry Feels like all the time.

"Do you want to?"

Louis doesn't hesitate when he nods and says, "Eventually… m'curious."

And as simple as that Harry's leaning over and planting his lips on Louis'. It's sudden and unexpected but it still feels just as right and perfect as it did the first time. The electric reaction that zings down Louis' spine and makes his stomach flip is intoxicating. He wants more and he wants everything as Harry climbs on top of him and wedges a thigh between Louis' own, grinding their hips together desperately. 

Louis comes to his senses before the first groan escapes his throat.

''Harry." His voice is breathy and rough and entirely unconvincing, "Stop it. Harry, _stop_."

He does, painfully slowly, letting up his attack on Louis' lips to move on to the line of his throat. "What's wrong?"

"You don't want this." His chest is empty, everything having moved up to his head, clouding his thoughts.

"Of course I do." He rolls his hips once to accentuate his point.

"No, H. Stop." His heart is a jackhammer against his lungs, panic rising in his throat. "You just want a quick shag and I'm not indulging it. Find some girl… or boy, apparently. I'm not doing it." 

Louis feels the hurt pass through Harry's entire body even before the younger boy hastily clambers off of him. It gets harder to breathe through Fear-laden air.

There's no way he can explain the outburst without telling Harry the truth. "I didn't mean it like that, Hazza, I-"

"No. No, I get it." He's calmly pulling on a pair of boxers he’s picked off the floor. "You made yourself perfectly clear. M'sorry."

And he _knows_ what Harry's thinking as he locks himself in the loo; knows just how the younger boy interpreted his words. It breaks his heart, because it isn't fair. It's not fair to Harry. 

He needs to tell him the _truth_.

Louis falls asleep with his chest splitting in two, heart broken and guilty... and a little horny.

But mostly guilty.

☆。 .:*: ・ ’

Four days later, Zayn gives Louis advice that he never would’ve come up with on his own.

"You have to tell him the truth, Lou."

Zayn says it with a tint to his voice that indicates he knows more than he's letting on. Louis may not have spoken to Harry for the last three days due to the younger's shoulder of _ice_ , but he knows for a fact that they share Zayn as their designated shoulder to cry on. 

"He fuckin' hates me Z, should've seen the look on his face. Probably thinks I think he's disgusting or something. He won't even _look_ at me, let alone listen."

They're on the couch downstairs, Zayn’s feet up the coffee table, Tootsie Roll wrappers spread out across their laps. Louis resorted to half-laying on Zayn's lap about five minutes ago, and now he's sniffling into his shirt.

"Because you're not talking to him. You're trying to get him to listen. Just talk, and he won’t be able to help hearing you." He says it like it's the simplest thing in the world.

Louis lets out a pained groan.

Zayn sighs and mutters something that vaguely sounds like, "Two idiots."

"Sorry?" He peers up at Zayn through wet eyelashes.

"Nothing."

"No," Louis sits up, "Don't pull that shit, Malik, tell me what you said."

He rolls his eyes and stretches his back. "You're both a pair of idiots, honestly. It's painful to watch; like a bad romcom."

Louis can feel the downward tick of Zayn's Tranquility as he gets more annoyed, the room becoming thicker with Louis' overpowering Anger. He doesn't know what the _fuck_ Zayn's on about.

"What the _fuck_ are you on about?"

" _Jesus,_ Lou, are you honestly that thick?" Zayn throws his hands up. "The boy is in bloody fucking _love_ with you and neither of you can figure it the _fuck_ ou-"

"He is?"

Zayn just- Zayn laughs. He laughs at Louis, a rare, unrestrained laugh that he's reserved for two or three moments in the entire time Louis has known him. "You really never saw it, did you?"

The room is overtaken by Calmness again Zayn sits down and wraps an arm around Louis, who’s still floundering on the news that Harry apparently loves him. Maybe not _back_ or _too_ , but… it’s there? He feels all sorts of lightheaded and fuzzy, ice diffusing over his lungs and through his chest. And with a start he realizes that he’s not just feeling it, he _Feels_ it. He might burst with it, the way he’s fighting a smile and the expansion of his heart in his chest. He doesn’t know what the fuck this _is_. He doesn’t feel like himself.

So, naturally, he panics.

“Z, Zayn. Zayn, it’s happening again. I don’t- I can’t stop it. Zayn-” He cuts off with a whimper, buries his face back in Zayn’s soft, grey shirt. “It’s so _cold_ , what _is_ this?” And, Christ, he’s starting to cry again.

Zayn just holds him close, and Louis can feel him trying to radiate his Emotion further outwards to douse whatever it is Louis’ Feeling. And that _frustrates_ Louis, because It’s not a bad Feeling, per se, and he doesn’t want it to go away, he just wants to understand.

“Lou, you said it happened when we all got put together. What if it’s-”

“He can’t be in love with me.” 

He says it in such a broken voice that he startles _himself_ into pity. 

Niall chooses that exact moment to walk in. He stops walking, and for the first time Louis doesn't feel a shift in the air like he usually does. Zayn seems to notice it too, because he stiffens underneath Louis just as Niall pouts and says, “What did I say about bro hugging without me?”

He’s not stupid, though, notices the silent exchange and gives them both a questioning look.

Louis and Zayn both open their mouths to speak, but Louis is quicker. “Niall.” He sits up, wipes his eyes, “Ni, what’s your Emotion feel like? Like in your chest? Mine always feels like _fire_ , and I was just… Just wondering.”

Niall gives it a thought for a second. “Well if yours feels like fire I’d imagine mine’s the opposite, yeah? Does feel a bit cold, I reckon. When it really gets up there s’like ice sometimes.”

Louis feels sick, the cold dissipating from his lungs and being replaced with his usual boiling Anger. The change is too quick, too sudden as the extremities fight to cancel each other out, and his body can’t handle it. The heat wins though, and he vaguely registers letting a pained cry slipping past his lips before he loses consciousness.

☆。 .:*: ・ ’

When Louis comes to, it’s with a terrible pain in his chest. It feels like someone’s squeezing his heart with their bare hand, nails digging in, and he can’t _breathe_. 

He vaguely registers that he’s in his bed as he curls in on himself and a wet cloth that someone apparently placed on his head flops into his lap. He grabs it blindly, just for the sake of having a grip on something as he screams in pain. It _hurts_ so much, and all he can think about is how he wishes Harry was there to comfort him in that effortless way he did just a week ago. He feels so empty and full at the same time and he _can’t stop yelling_.

Then there’s four people bursting into the room; Zayn, followed by Niall then Liam then- _Harry._ Harry’s here, he’s-

“Harry.” It’s all Louis manages to croak before he’s doubling over in pain again and clawing at his chest. Harry’s on him in half a second, grabbing his wrists and telling him to breathe. It’s all Louis’s wanted, all he’s been _needing_ , and now he’s got it and- _Shit._

“Hurts so much, I-”

Harry hushes him, takes both of his small hands in one and runs the other through his hair. He can still feel the hot and cold waging a fierce war inside of him, his heart working overtime to keep him conscious.

“Lou, Louis, please breathe. Need you to take deep breaths.” Louis tries; he takes one long inhale and starts hyperventilating when it feels like a knife in his side. “Hey, alright. I-” 

He seems to be floundering for a solution, probably looking up at the other boys for help. Louis feels the bed dip where someone sits and puts a hand on his back. “Talk to him, H.” It’s Zayn, of course it is.

“I don’t-”

“Just _talk to him_.”

If Louis didn’t feel like he’s simultaneously going to die of hypothermia and heat stroke he’d be annoyed that they’re talking about him while he’s right there. But all he gets out is a strangled, “ _Please_.”

So Harry starts talking, starts whispering sweet little nothings in his ear like it’s going to fix things, like his words are going to wrap around the hand on his heart and just pull it off. He starts apologizing, telling Louis that he’s sorry for ignoring him, that he takes it all back, that he hopes Louis will forgive him.

“Think of those things, Lou.” Harry’s crying now, his grip on Louis’ wrists impossibly tight. “Think of those things that make you not-Angry. You can make it stop, you can do it on your own, you’re stronger than this. You can fight it.”

Louis still can’t breathe, though, can’t remember which way is up or how to say that he can’t. All he knows is the crippling ache inside him, the hand in his hair, and the voice in his ear.

But all in the sudden the words Louis’s hearing are his own.

“You’re family, your sisters, Lou. Mum’s tea, just made perfect on a Sunday morning before you go out to play footie with the lads, yeah? When you’re singing? When you're on stage and you feel all floaty-like?” The things Louis whispered to Harry in the dead of night when Harry was _asleep_. “Or when you’re just chilling with us, playing Fifa, just messin’ about. Your own bed at home? With the glow in the dark stickers on the ceiling! Full English on a Sunday morning and snow days in the winter? C’mon, Lou, you know better than I do.”

With every word he speaks, Louis can visualize each and every scene he’s mentioning; he can remember all of the things he calls home and the things that make him smile. The tension drains from his chest, bit by bit, and eventually lets up. He can breathe again. He takes a heaving breath, lets it out, and slumps against Harry’s chest, fresh tears of relief rolling down his cheeks. He can’t even begin to fathom what this means, the knowledge that Harry was listening to him all those nights, and it’s no wonder he got so upset when Louis told him to stop fucking about. Maybe it was some sort of reverse psychology, that Louis would feel more comfortable whispering the stories he holds dearest to his heart into the blackness of late nights and early mornings rather than to a _person._ Louis’s an idiot.

“M’sorry Harry.” It comes out as more of a broken whimper than a sincere apology.

He feels Harry shake his head and start rubbing his back. He feels so _small_ , wrapped up in Harry’s arms, crying and shaking and weak. 

“Fuck, Louis, don’t worry about that right now. What happened? What was hurting?”

He tightens his grip on Harry’s shirt tenfold, the memory of the searing pain making his chest tighten just slightly. He shakes his head back at him.

“Hurt so much, like-” he breaks off with a sob, “I can’t. I’m sorry, I don’t know.”

"It's alright. It's okay, just breathe. Need you to just take it slow, yeah? Don't think about it."

So they just sit there, Louis cocooned in his blanket and Harry's arms that he's become painfully accustomed to. He's in this warm little nest of safety and security, and it's really the only place he needs to be that isn't _home._ Though this comes pretty damn close, he thinks.

And that's how it happens, really. That's how he decides that it's now or never, all or nothing.

"I love you, Harry."

Its not perfectly romantic, what with the state he's in, but it gets the job done. His hoarse little whisper of a confession is enough to make Harry's whole body lock up.

"You what?"

Louis shuts his eyes tighter, heart picking up a rapid pace again. ''I love you."

He doesn't know what he's expecting, maybe a bit of denial, a scolding telling him it's not fair, maybe even Harry to run out of the room without a second glance backwards. What Louis isn't expecting his Harry to pull back, straighten him up and ask him, "Are you sure?"  
  
What really throws Louis for a loop is the feel of a pair of lips against his when he gives a shaky exhale and a nod.  
  
The mere sensation shouldn't throw him off as much as it does, considering this isn't the first time this has happened. It does though, and Louis thinks that even if he kissed Harry all day, everyday for the rest of his life, he'd never get used to it.  
  
Harry's got a tight grip on the back of his shirt, pulling Louis out of his blanket cocoon and pressing their torsos flush together. The sudden rush of cold air brings Louis back to reality and they have to talk about this.  
  
It's like déjà vu when Louis reluctantly detaches their mouths and tells Harry to stop.  
  
Harry winces, drops his head, and whispers, "Please don't push me away again."  
  
Louis' heart very well might break in two at that, but he's quick to clarify; he's done hurting Harry and himself.  
  
"No, Hazza. Listen. I need to tell you something." And his voice is still hoarse from crying and screaming, sounds rough and abused. He suddenly becomes aware that they're only two left in the room.

Harry looks at him, confused, “What?”

Louis takes a deep, shuddering breath before he starts. “You remember the day we got put together? As a band?” Harry nods at the rhetorical question. “That moment, the moment Simon said we were through, I- I felt something like, completely different. It was like, I knew it was an Emotion, and I knew it wasn’t mine. That’s what made me jump into your arms, y’know? I felt so _different_ , and I-”

“I know.”

Louis must’ve misheard him. “What?”

“I know, Louis, well, _we_ know. The lads, too. We got to talking, and like. Zayn said you were talking about how it Felt when Niall came in and you asked him, and- We think you have two Emotions, Lou.”

There's an appropriate stunned silence that follows, because Louis knows, knows for a fact, that having two Emotions is a biological and physical impossibility. It's an anomaly, so rare that there haven't even been enough cases to study the phenomenon. And the reason for that is, well, they've died. One's body can't handle the near constant fluctuations of what is almost always the polar opposite of their birth Emotion once triggered.  
  
Louis's going to die.  
  
"I'm gonna die."  
  
Harry doesn't dramatically wrap him up in his arms and say it's gonna be alright. Instead, he rolls his eyes, kisses Louis' nose and laughs out, "No you're not."  
  
"Harry," he counters weakly, "There are no _living_ cases, I-"  
  
Harry promptly remembers he can shut him up with a kiss, making a cold sensation rise up in his chest.  
  
"You're gonna be fine, Louis. You were out cold for less than an hour, you've been going all this time without triggering the second one. You literally just overcame a Paradoxical Attack all on your fucking own. You're stronger than it, Louis. And if you can learn to control it, you can be _Happy_. Whatever the fuck that is. Seems to work for Niall."  
  
He's right, is the thing. Louis knows the tricks of the trade, can use them to his advantage. If this whole One Direction thing works out, who knows, maybe Louis can hire a private Emotional counselor to keep his condition a secret and help him control the conflicting Emotions.  
  
"I mean, I guess." He doesn't know what to do with himself, keeps fidgeting in Harry's lap waiting for one of them to break the silence. "Can I finish the story?"  
  
Harry nods, smiling softly up at him. He's so pretty.  
  
"Anyway, so this apparent Happiness that I felt. I only felt it that time, and well that time earlier when Zayn told me you apparently love me but- No. Shut up, let me finish. I knew it had to be something to do with you because never, never in my whole life did my Anger ever diminish as much as it did when I was around you. Yeah, our Emotions trigger each other, but more often than not whenever I was around you I Felt nothing. And then you told me you felt the same way and then I fucking kissed you, God. I broke up with Hannah the literal next day and I got scared, Harry. I got really fucking scared that I fucked everything up between us and then I finally fixed it that day, and then I went and fucked it up again and I- I love you, Harry. And I really can't lose you again."  
  
Harry's got matching tears in his eyes by the time Louis' finished. Whatever betrayal he felt at Zayn telling Louis his secret it gone, and it shows on his face, the outright love and adoration. It's pure and it's blinding, and Louis wants to put that look on his face all the time.

"I do."

"You do what?"

"I do, love you, I mean. He wasn't-"  
  
Louis cuts him off easily with a harsh press of his lips. Their teeth might click together and their noses squish against one another awkwardly, but there's not a single doubt in Louis' mind that the tight freeze of a new and unfamiliar Emotion is the best he's ever Felt. He hopes it never stops.

And it doesn't for now.  Louis lets the new sensation in his chest urge him on, instinctually pushing Harry backwards until they’re laying down, Louis looming over Harry, his hair fanned out on the white sheets framing his flushed face. _This_ is what Louis wanted all those nights ago when he nodded at Harry’s invasive question, this is what he was hoping for. And it would’ve been good, then, it would’ve been great. But it wouldn’t have been the same, he wouldn’t have had this profuse amount of pure love practically radiating into the room and back at him from Harry.

The situation feels so right. His Anger is bound back somewhere deep inside and Harry's Fear is _gone_. It’s laying dormant, and Louis hopes, _prays_ that it stays that way.

 

"I love you," Louis lets himself say. It comes out breathless, like it takes a great amount of effort to say, which is ironic because in reality it's one of the lightest terms Louis can let roll off of his tongue.

"Love you too, Lou," Harry responds.

☆。 .:*: ・ ’

It takes about five minutes for everyone in the house to find out that LouisandHarry are finally together. Albeit that the house is significantly less occupied than it was a month ago, the news spreads fast after the two boys come downstairs for breakfast one morning holding hands. It had been an impromptu decision on Harry’s part just before they appeared in the doorframe to grab Louis’ hand, brush his bruised lips across his knuckles, and lead them into sight.

And if that wasn’t enough, they’re practically plastered to each other’s backs at every opportunity, hands in each other’s hands and pockets and pants. It becomes a game, to see how many times a day someone teases them for being so in love.

The final starts approaching quicker, the nerves increasing every week what with Liam about to shit himself more and more with each passing day. His Apprehension filters through the house, gradually taking up more space with every person that’s eliminated. And all in the sudden they’re filming their last video diary, miles away from the strangers they were when they were first sat on those stairs all those weeks ago.

It’s a bit surreal, Louis comes to find, and he feels like he’s on top of the world. He’s Happy, he’s in love, he’s _made it this far_. He’s coping with two Emotions, getting better vocally everyday, and he really, really thinks they have a shot at winning. Maybe. He’s hoping.

The best part is, though, is when Louis does get too anxious, too nervous, too Angry, Harry is there to calm him down. He’s there with kisses and tea and Louis’ own words of comfort and motivation thrown right back at him. That’s all Louis needs, really, to know that someone’s listening to him, to have the love that takes up too much space in his chest given right back to him just as fiercely. 

And when they come in third, Louis’s there to comfort the other boys, and they’re all there to comfort each other. It’s a mess of tears and hugs backstage, promises that it doesn’t stop here, that isn’t it for them. Pinky swears that they’ll always be best friends. Louis says most of it, trying to hold himself together, trying to make himself believe it until he finally lets himself be sad. Harry’s there in two seconds flat, finding and catching him before he collapses onto some stairs. He holds Louis close, tells him that it’s all true, choking on his own tears that _they made it this far_ , _who knows what’s next_. He can feel Harry’s Fear respond the heat bubbling inside him. He can’t stop it, doesn’t have a chance to think twice about blocking it out from Harry’s reception.

But then he feels it subside just as fast at it built up and he realizes that it’s Harry that’s doing it, Harry that’s reigning in his own Fear, shielding Louis from his outburst due to the circumstances.

“Harry,” he whispers in shock, “You’ve been practicing?” Harry nods, accompanied by a wet laugh. “When?”

“Whenever I’m around you, or anyone else. All the time. Never wanna hurt you.”

It hits Louis a bit like a jolt of electricity, startling him stiff right in Harry’s arms. He loves Harry, he knows that, with his whole self. But he realizes that no matter what happens after this, as long as Harry’s with him he’s okay with it. They’re going to get a flat in London, and they’re going to take it from there, because they have each other and that’s all they really need.

“I love you, Harry.”

Harry buries his nose behind Louis’ ear. “Love you too, so much.”

They’re fine, they’re both going to be fine. Together.

☆。 .:*: ・ ’

And they are, they’re fine. They’re more than fine, actually. From the moment Simon brings them into his office to explain in lengthier terms that he’s taking them under his wing, they’re so much more than _fine_.

It moves by too fast for Louis’ taste; The X Factor tour that flies by, the endless promo all over the country that they suddenly start doing, the rush of the crowds the places they're seeing. Then all in the sudden they’re putting out their own song, then an album, and it explodes. Then they’re on their own tour all over the UK. And then they’re in America, and they’re touring there. They’re appearing on television shows and meeting their idols, performing in _legendary_ places.

The only thing that remains a constant are the lads. Zayn is still there to tease him and kick his arse in Fifa, Niall to laugh at his jokes that aren’t funny. Liam’s there to keep him line somewhat (even though slowly but surely Louis is sure he’s corrupting him). And there’s Harry, Harry’s there by his side the entire time, telling him he loves him and that this is amazing and that it’s crazy that they get to do all of this _together_.

It’s only been two years since Louis met his soulmate, but it’s only now, when they’re a long way away from being sixteen and eighteen, that he _realizes_ that Harry is his soulmate. They were meant to happen from the start, he thinks. It’s a scary thought, one he revisits often; one he’ll never tell Harry about. He’s constantly teasing Harry for being a cheesy sap, and if he let slip even an inkling of him believing they’re living out some rom-com fantasy novel-turned-film and were _fated_ to be together, he’d never live it down.

Right now, he’s content on living his dreams with his best friends and the love of his life ( _cough_ , soulmate), because they’ve been there for him and with him right from the start, right through everything.

So yeah, Louis thought it was impossible to Feel anything other than your designated Emotion, but he also thought things like this couldn't happen to him.

He's glad the universe decided to prove him wrong.

**Author's Note:**

> LOVED IT? HATED IT? YOUR FEEDBACK IS THE LIGHT OF MY LIFE
> 
> rebloggable post [here!!](https://nightwideopen.tumblr.com/post/160019720259/but-with-you-i-feel-again-by-nightwideopen-louis)


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